


Sit Beside You

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Protective Allura (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron), Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, please read warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: "I'm fine," Pidge repeated, as though trying to convince both herself and Lance. "I am. Nothing's wrong. I'm okay. I…" Her hands were trembling and she tucked them beneath her arms in the most pathetic looking hug Lance had ever seen. "I'm fine. It's over. I'm fine. Not a mark. So nothing happened. I'm fine." / Pidge is not fine. None of them are. But hopefully, eventually, they will be. / READ WARNINGS





	Sit Beside You

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline Notes:** Set during season four, anywhere post episode two
> 
>  **Warning Notes:** PLEASE READ! This is a rape recovery fic, meaning there are obviously elements of rape/sexual assault. The actual act is never depicted and this focuses on the aftermath of it, but if that is a trigger warning in any way please do not read or proceed with caution. The story, despite being actually less intense (in a manner of speaking) than Passing Grade, has been rated M given Pidge's age. Please be respectful of this content as well and please also know that there is nothing glorifying about what happened and this is a recovery/healing fic. Thank you.

 

"Hallway C-1 clear," Lance murmured into his comm, "starting on C-2. How's it going by you guys?"

He heard the sound of outside blaster fire as someone keyed in on the other side but a short yell – Hunk – sounded before words.

"That good, huh?" he asked, creeping down this next hall, scanning each sealed door for a heat signature that would indicate someone was behind it. The words were light but his tone was strained, wincing as another shout from Hunk came across.

"—few more – nutes," Shiro crackled across, interrupted by the sound of blaster fire. "—have to –treat."

Shiro could say a few more minutes all he liked, but Lance knew he was only leaving this Galra base one way and that was with Pidge. His stomach clenched as another doorway revealed nothing.

"Where are you?" he whispered, as though she might respond.

Pidge had been missing for just over four varga after an intel gathering mission about the whereabouts of her father had gone sideways. She had been meeting undercover with a potential informant after they'd gotten word of a group of scientists had been behind one of the Galra's newest ion cannons and this person had been offering under the table to sell the cannon's schematics.

As much as it pained them, this worked best as a solo mission and Lance had been chosen by Shiro given his non-threatening (he chose to take that as a compliment) appearance and way with words (and that was definitely a compliment that had resulted in him blushing with pleasure). But Pidge had not taken no for an answer and had reminded them (complete with actions and Hunk as the unfortunate illegal arms dealer) of her interaction in tracking down Matt. Lance suppressed a shiver. Pidge was  _scary_ when she was on the warpath and Shiro had ultimately backed down with solid instructions for her to remain on the comms at all times, earning a sarcastic, "yes, dad," that had had Shiro flushing and Lance sniggering.

Things had been going well, or so they'd thought, when Pidge had suddenly gasped out "Galra!" and followed it up with an enraged "You mother fuc—" before she'd been cut off and that had been the last they'd heard of her.

The Paladins had managed to track her comms to this current quadrant before they had been abruptly shut off, no doubt found nestled in her ear and removed. It had taken longer than Lance wanted it to then to scour said quadrant for any sign of a Galra ship or base, but eventually they had found a small outpost that Hunk, picking up transmission chatter, relayed was a holding facility for prisoners found in the area before they were transported.

For being a small base it was heavily guarded and while the others had drawn the Galra's attention, Lance had been dropped off via Blue and Allura to infiltrate and find Pidge. He wished she was here with him to find here (as ridiculous as that sounded) because Pidge would have hacked immediately into the building, located the floor plans and probably her own prisoner ID number and they'd have been out within a few dobashes.

But instead she was forced to await his rescue and Lance was not what one would call hacker-savvy. Hunk would have been a better pick, he thought, but Yellow was necessary in the firefight upstairs and the fact that the Red Lion was built more for speed and Lance had not yet managed to learn to control her fire streams to the point where he wouldn't catch up his own team in the blast he'd been chosen to infiltrate.

He wasn't entirely unprepared. Hunk had hoisted upon him a bevy of gadgets he and Pidge had made, which included the infrared scanner specifically designed to seek out heat signatures within human range, a sort of EMP (quantity two) that Lance could use to short out control panels and what looked like a crowbar but Hunk had assured him was better than that but functioned in the same way and could pry open the Galra doors from the floor after they were shorted out.

Normally the prison area was pretty straightforward but given that this entire ship was a prison holding area it made it just a little bit more difficult. Added to that, Lance had yet to actually find  _a_ signature. He had a sinking feeling that a transport ship had recently left and he prayed that Pidge had not been aboard it. Otherwise they were in a lot of trouble.

Lance had gotten so used to bypassing each door with a negative beep that when the scanner lit up that it detected a form within Pidge's parameters Lance had almost continued on before his brain caught up to his legs and he swung back around.  _Finally._

He bet Pidge would say the same. She was probably lounging about in there, lamenting the lack of vents to instigate her own escape and the fact she was waiting on a team of (minus Hunk and Coran) terribly tech-minded people to rescue her. He'd ruffle her hair like he knew she pretended to hate but secretly loved and she'd punch him in the shoulder and he'd just grin through it, so glad she was back. He also, as he prepared the EMP to activate, prepared his ears to her colorful vocabulary. He still couldn't believe so much vulgarity could reside in such a small body.

The panel next to the door went from purple to dull grey and Lance wiggled out the crowbaw from the holster on his hip. A beam of light shot out the bottom of it as he went to push it up against the door and with a yelp and almost no strength on his part the door flung itself into the ceiling and Lance stumbled into the prison cell, it slamming down behind him a tick later.

He expected a laugh at his less than graceful entrance, a gentle ribbing of how this was the best Voltron could send.

But there was no laugh or jibe.

And, as his widening eyes took in the crumpled form pressed against the wall, he knew not to expect one.

Because Pidge…

Pidge had not been found as he had expected.

There was nothing that could have prepared him for what he did find.

"Pidge," her name was a breath on his lips and he felt his legs waver, frozen from their stumble.

Because Pidge…

She was lying on the ground, hands manacled together and tethered into the floor with barely any give of chain. She had them pressed up against her chest as best she could while the rest of her body was curled around them with her knees drawn up and legs tucked back down against herself.

But more than that…

Pidge wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing.

Unless you counted the blood. The blood that Lance could make out along with a light purple substance he didn't want to acknowledge the meaning of in the dim light that had smeared over her legs, lighter streaks giving way to a darker color closer to her inner thigh.

He didn't look much more than that. Pidge's privacy had already been invaded enough.

He choked down a sob and bile all in one. Invaded? Really?  _That_ was what his brain came up with to describe this? But the word danced outside of his mind, wouldn't form on his tongue, because he didn't want to accept it, didn't want to believe it.

Not Pidge.

Not Pidge.

This hadn't happened to Pidge.

Acid tickled his throat and he heavily swallowed it down. Not now. He couldn't go to pieces now.

"Pidge," her name a croak this time and he carefully approached her, her form giving the slightest tremble.

He reached out a shaking hand of his own to place on her upturned shoulder, light scratches decorating the flesh and angling down along her back, and she recoiled with a low moan, pressing further up against the wall. The action shifted her face from her buried arms ever so, revealing clenched shut eyes and tear streaks that seemed to be stained into her skin.

"Don't touch me," she whispered, words a rasp. "Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me…"

Her mantra continued, growing weaker by the second and Lance knelt there, helpless.

What did he  _do?_ What did he… Tears were blurring his vision and he hurriedly blinked them back.

"Lance," his helmet crackled. Allura. "Have you located Pidge?"

Lance reached up a hand to reply, not sure what to say. He'd found Pidge, yes, but… but…

"Still looking," he responded, hoping no one caught the waver in his voice. Probably not, as there was still the fierce sound of battle behind Allura's transmission.

"You must hurry," the order was borne more of desperation than an actual command. "Hunk has determined that more forces are arriving within a few dobashes. We cannot remain much longer in our current formation."

"Five minutes," Lance promised, as much for her as for him. "See you at the rendezvous. With Pidge."

During the course of the short conversation Pidge's pleas had died away and silence reigned once more in the cell. Lance, after a moment of indecision, pulled his helmet off and set it to the side. It was risky to eliminate contact like that but Pidge didn't need a muffled helmeted voice talking to her right now.

"Pidge," he said quietly again, not touching her this time but settling himself from a kneel to cross-legged and a little closer to her height. He'd lie down on the floor with her like he did when his younger siblings were upset, but given events… he shook his head. Not such a good idea.

No response except for the tiniest of whimpers and her head ducked back down as much as it could.

"K-Katie," he tried then, unable to fully control his voice.

And to his great relief her head picked itself back up, dulled honey eyes blinking open. They didn't entirely focus on him, not yet, and Lance felt sick as they were not the inquisitive, bright eyes he was used to seeing.

They were wrong.

Everything was wrong.

But she was at least looking at him, even if she didn't see him, and Lance hurried to speak further lest she retreat again. "It's Lance," he burbled, keeping his tone low although it came out higher thanks to his own desire to just curl up and cry. "It's Lance. I'm here. We're rescuing you. Pidge, Katie,  _por favor,_ please, " he didn't even know what he was saying at that point, what he was asking of her, but the words were spilling like vomit and he could not stop them.

They seemed to have the desired effect though as the hollow stare retreated some, the barest pinprick of life coming back into her eyes and they locked onto dark ocean orbs.

Her arms lowered past her chin, revealing swollen lips and a bruised cheek. "L-Lance?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here." He wanted nothing more than to reach out, pull her into the tightest hug but he kept his hands tight on his lap, afraid to make any extra movement. It was a good decision as upon shifting slightly when he felt his foot going numb (and he could not afford that, not in the middle of a battle) she flinched backwards.

"Sorry,  _lo siento,_ I'm so sorry," he murmured, halting immediately.

They remained frozen like that, precious ticks counting down, but Lance knew he could not rush this. He could not do anything that would harm her further, hurt whatever little control she had left.

He could see the moment realization hit Pidge; that he was here, that he knew, that  _that_ had happened as she came back to herself. Her face flashed between a mixture of red and white before settling on a near greenish tinge and she whimpered again, eyes squeezing tight as a tear leaked from them and her shoulders shook.

"It's going to be okay," Lance reassured, even if he had no idea how this was ever going to be okay. "I'm gonna get you out of here. Promise. I just…" his eyes drifted to the tether holding Pidge's hands captive. Any movement in her direction caused her to pull away, but they needed to remove that. He worried his lip.

What did he do?

"I need to cut your cuffs off," he said a few ticks later. Pidge was someone who liked processes, right? Order? Instructions? If he detailed out what he was doing that was probably less scary than suddenly just reaching for her.

Even though, his stomach clenched, he hated that  _he_ was something to be scared of now. More tears swam to his own eyes and he forced them back. Again, not now.

"I'm going to reach for that awesome utility knife you and Hunk made on my belt; you know, the one with the nail clippers on it, and then I'm going to cut them from the floor. Okay?"

Pidge gave the barest of nods and her eyes were trained back on his face even though she was avoiding his gaze. Lance would take it. He very slowly reached for the space Swiss army knife that had been given to him for what they thought was his eighteenth birthday gift – no one knew quite how long they'd been in space but it felt long enough, sometimes too long and Pidge was  _Dios,_ fifteen and she had been— Lance cut the thought off again before it could take hold, take control, and brought the utility item around, flicking open the heavy-duty switchblade.

He lowered it to the chain first, Pidge's eyes tracking his every move now. The blade heated with a soft glow and cut through them like butter. "Can I cut the connector on your wrists now?" Lance asked gently, figuring they'd solve the actual manacles themselves back at the castle. Pidge gave another small nod and ever so slightly untucked her hands from where she'd pressed them against her chest. Lance kept his eyes fixedly on the cuffs.

He brought the heated knife through the connector and a moment later Pidge's hands were her own again and she tugged them back against her, covering the small swell of her chest as best she could.

Lance's eyes cut along Pidge's form, bare back and down her legs, spotting bruises and more cuts there now along with the blood, before averting them to the top of her head that she had tucked back down. He couldn't take her through the Galra compound like that. Not out into space without  _anything._ Not when she already felt so exposed. He looked down at himself; the armor would be too cold and impersonal and also useless as it would do nothing to cover her, but his underarmor…

He could make that work. He didn't care about exposing a little of his own skin.

"Pidge," and he was relieved when his quiet call drew her attention again. "I'm going to take my armor off and my undershirt. It's for you, okay? So you can wear it." Because the last thing he wanted her to think – and were she in a rational state of mind Lance knew it wouldn't be an issue but she wasn't because she had been  _hurt_ like that – was seeing him parading around a bare chest and thinking anything else.

She didn't protest and so Lance did as he said he was going to, moving slowly but still as quick as he could well aware that time was literally counting down. The chestplate was put gently on the ground and followed by his arm braces and then shoulder pads. He shimmied out of his shirt, wrenching it uncomfortably up past the belt, and had the material in hand a moment later.

Now… to somehow get it on Pidge.

"Can you put this on?" he asked her, holding it out like one would offer a treat to a scared, cornered animal. "I'll look away, promise."

Her lip trembled. "Lance, I… I…"

He crouched carefully down, the shirt still outstretched between them. "It's going to be okay," he promised. "I'm here and I'm gonna protect you." And he would.  _No one_ would ever touch Pidge again. Over his dead body.

She gave another small nod – and it was so wrong, so timid a gesture on her – and reached out one hand to take the shirt. Lance turned away as he heard her push herself to sitting, not even turning as she let out a little moan of pain at the movement. His own hands shook as he pulled his armor back on over his skin, the edges hard and cold.

He knew they were still better than any touch Pidge had endured.

"Done," came her voice a few moments later.

The shirt was long thanks to Lance's own lanky frame and even though she was sitting it hung to the very tops of her thighs, although Lance wished it stretched down to her ankles. The sleeves were doing that, hanging over her hands and giving the impression of a kid playing dress-up.

Wrong. It was wrong.

Lance hated it.

"Can you walk?" Lance asked her and Pidge shook her head, tears welling in her eyes while pink stole across her face.

"It h-hurts," she whimpered and Lance knelt down again, maintaining that bubble of space. He couldn't even imagine what kind of pain she was in and he didn't want to understand. He just wanted to make it better but he couldn't do that either.

"I know," he soothed, even though he didn't, desperately wanting to hug her and hide her from the world. "I know."

She let out a broken cry, arms around herself now in her own embrace.

Lance felt his heart shatter.

"I'm going to have to carry you," he managed to get out around the lump building and she trembled, obviously having come to that conclusion as well. A day ago she'd have demanded a good seat, an order to be careful or she'd tell Matt if he dropped her with a teasing grin as though her dork of a brother scared Lance (Pidge was far, far scarier). Not now though.

"Pidge," he met her bright stare, conveying as much as he could behind the words. "I will  _never_ hurt you. Never."

She ducked her head and said, voice small, "I know."

Lance was still trying to figure out how to best carry her, to reach out and somehow avoid as much contact as possible, when the door to the room shot open.

Lance was spinning around, bayard in hand within the tick.

"—'s my little lioness doing?" rumbled the Galran entering the room, wearing not armor but a dark purple robe that had the insignia detailing him as a commander, his eyes not yet registering the sight in front of him.

They never got a chance to because Lance's vision had washed over with red as soon as Pidge let out a low moan of fear.

He raised his gun.

No mercy.

Not for monsters like him.

The bolt went straight through the Galran's large head and he was dead before he hit the ground, his body holding the door open.

Lance flipped back to Pidge, who was staring wide-eyed at the dead Galran, white as a sheet. Lance stepped in to block her view, crouching down. "We have to go," he told her gently, bayard disappearing in a burst of light back to his holster. "I'm going to pick you up now, okay?"

She merely closed her eyes and gave another barely there nod.

Lance very carefully placed a hand on her back and wedged the other one underneath her knees, Pidge shaking at that and he hated that he was causing her such fear but it couldn't be helped, sliding his arm through the hole his hand made and lifting her almost effortlessly into his arms.

Pidge's hands came down to pull at the shirt that had ridden up at the movement and Lance pointedly kept his gaze past her and resisted the urge to squeeze her in tight like he wanted to do. He had to move quickly as right now, with Pidge cradled in his arms, he could not reach his bayard. Hopefully, given the Galra commander's state of undress – Lance shuddered anew— he would meet no resistance as the base seemed to think they had things under control up above.

"Allura," Lance called quietly into the comms as he moved as quickly as he could down the hall, trying not to jostle Pidge, "I'm coming up. I have Pidge."

It was an open line and he heard Hunk's teary sob of relief and Shiro murmur a quiet thanks. "She's hurt," he continued. "I… I think she might need a pod."

"Might?" came Shiro's answer, skepticism clear. It was generally either a clear cut yes or no after all.

"Allura can decide," Lance said, glancing down at the auburn head pressed up against his chestplate. He'd never gotten an Altean biology lesson — and really, honestly, he did not want one — but he was hoping that Allura would understand well enough what happened. As a fellow female he had the feeling Pidge was going to be most comfortable with her for now and he knew he did not feel comfortable asking about certain things. Although, if Pidge needed him for anything… he'd be there in a heartbeat, no matter how awkward it was on his end.

He turned off the comms on his end, hearing Allura announce that Blue was docking in twenty ticks, and angled his head towards Pidge. "We're heading outside now," he said quietly, "and for Blue. Hold tight, okay? I'm going to have to use the jetpack."

Pidge shifted one hand to grip the edges of his chestplate and Lance ever so slightly tucked her up a little higher, careful though to keep his touch as light as possible even though he wanted her secure.

The sky above as he exited was lit up with blaster fire and he could hear Hunk yelling that the reinforcements were arriving. Blue was a welcome sight as she swept in above, a giant gust of wind following in her wake and making Pidge shiver. Lance wasted no time activating his jetpack and lifting up and into the cargo bay that had opened in Blue's underbelly. The door had barely closed before they were taking off again with a roar of thrusters and only months of practice at riding around in a giant spaceship kept him from falling over. Still, he grunted as he braced his feet and Pidge let out a small sound of distress.

He hurried towards the cockpit where there was a small pull out cot just behind the pilot's chair. Allura had already yanked it down but she was back in the seat, directing Blue out of the firefight while calling for Coran to open the wormhole she had preprogrammed.

Lance put all his focus on Pidge, who was clutching at his armor now with both hands as he made to put her down on the bed. "C'mon, Pidgeon," he murmured, the nickname a hopeful comfort. "It'll feel better."

But as he lowered her down, her backend touching down on the flat mattress, she whimpered and clung tighter. A breathless "hurts," was breathed out against his neck. In Blue's brighter lighting than the Galra prison her visible wounds, peppering her thighs and the bruise on her cheek and swollen lips, looked even more painful.

"How about you lie down?" Lance suggested, reangling her so he could practically roll her from his arms, which were beginning to ache, onto the cot. "I'll get you a blanket too, all right?"

She finally nodded and as gently as he could Lance lowered her down, Pidge immediately curling up on her one side and fisting her hand against her stomach and short locks splayed out on the bed. She looked even smaller like that, like a doll. A broken doll. Lance shook his head, wrapping his arms about himself now in his own hug.

"Lance, Pidge," Allura's voice sounded then and Lance looked in her direction as the princess removed herself from the chair, Blue on a steady enough course for a few moments and the fight behind them. "Are you all r—?" her words caught in her throat as she too spotted the figure on the bed. Lance watched her jeweled eyes trace over the huddled form, lingering on the red and purple stains that even now crept down Pidge's legs, and only her sudden gripping of the chair arm kept her upright while her other hand went to her mouth to cover the sharp inhale.

At least, Lance thought, as horror spilled across Allura's face, he didn't need to explain. She looked to him then and he knew the same despair was reflected in his gaze upon her.

"Lance," her voice was surprisingly steady, "can you pilot Blue back to the castle?"

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Yeah, of course."

Before he went to the controls though he stepped closer to Pidge and whispered her name, relieved when she peeked her eyes up over her arm. That mixture of white and green was back on her face, darkening when Allura stepped up next to Lance, the emergency medical kit in hand and a blanket draped over her other arm, helmet off.

"I'm going to pilot Blue," he told her. "I'll be right there though, okay? If you need me. And Allura is going to… to stay with you."

He was rewarded with a tiny nod and took that as his cue to step away. He sank into the familiar pilot's chair. "Hey, beautiful," he murmured and felt a flicker of Blue's awareness touch his mind. Such a thing would normally have brought him absolute joy as he had not sensed her since he had become the Red Paladin, but there was nothing happy about this situation.

She seemed to realize it as he felt the equivalent of a purr from her brush up against him, trying to project comfort. "You okay if I drive for a bit?" he asked her, soaking up the feeling even though it wasn't enough to fill the gaping hole still growing inside him.

Her acceptance came swift and another nudge, the feeling of foam playing over his toes and warm sunshine on the beach, as she tried to soothe him. Lance choked back the sob and reached shaking hands to her controls.

Behind him he could hear Allura murmuring but the words were indistinct. There was the rustling of cloth, the sound of water pouch being opened and then a sharp gasp on Pidge's part, followed by more soothing tones and then a whimper. Lance forced himself to remain seated and not turn around even when he heard Pidge crying a moment later. Allura was the best choice right now. She knew what she was doing.

At least more than he knew what to do.

He felt so  _useless._

Pidge was hurting and scared and… and he couldn't do  _anything_ to make it better. He focused instead on responding to Shiro's calls for an update and reported they were all on board and then on flying Blue. It wasn't a long distance between the wormhole and the castle, three dobashes tops, but Lance poured all of his attention into piloting and trying to block out whatever was happening behind him.

"Allura?" he called as the castle came into sight, voice pitched loud enough that he knew she heard him. "Blue's hangar or…?"

"Hangar," she responded. "Alert Coran to meet myself and Pidge in the infirmary and to prep a pod. Have… have the others meet in the kitchen after they have changed. It… it may be a little while." She sounded so unsure, so unlike the confident aura she normally projected, but she was still able to issue orders. Lance took as much comfort as he could from that.

Lance relayed as such and a moment later was quietly docking Blue, the Lion skipping her normal playful somersault into the hanger and landing with a subdued air. She gave him one last mental nuzzle before she opened her mouth and the exit ramp.

Lance remained seated, not sure if he should get up because Pidge wouldn't want—

"Lance," Allura summoned him, "Come here please."

He hurried around, not sure what sight to expect this time. Pidge was lying down but she was wrapped shoulder to ankle in the emergency blanket and cradled in Allura's arms, face hidden against Allura's shoulder. Any other time Lance would have called her a burrito and ruffled her hair till it stuck up while her arms were ensconced and she couldn't stop him. Now he just twisted his own hands under his arms, not sure where to put them.

"I will be taking Pidge to the infirmary, but I require an item from my quarters. Would you assist me in retrieving it?"

"Of course."

To Lance's surprise a light pink color dusted Allura's cheeks and her gaze flitted away from him. "It is a small yellow pouch in my upper dresser drawer. It may be buried beneath some… clothing."

Lance was no idiot. He was also a teenage boy. But more than that right now he was a very, very scared and concerned older brother and that was enough to wipe any thought of a smile at the idea of digging around in Allura's underwear drawer, especially given what had just happened. Right now he was honestly disgusted to be linked together with the Galran as a fellow male.

"I'll be there in a few dobashes," Lance said instead and Allura met his eyes again.

"Thank you."

Nothing more needed said and Lance hurried down the ramp in the direction of Allura's quarters while the two females went for the infirmary. He made quick work of opening the drawer, pushing aside various items without giving them any attention until he found the pouch and then pushed for the infirmary.

Pidge had already been dressed in a cryo-suit and the cuffs removed when he arrived and was lying down on one of the cots there, a softer blanket tight around her while Coran was by the pods and talking in low tones to Allura. At the sound of his footsteps Allura gave him a tight smile and met him with a cup of water and an open hand.

Lance's nose wrinkled as she opened the pouch and something bitter smelling rose up.

"What is that?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him as she removed what looked like a pink raisin and dropped it into the water where it immediately began fizzing.

"A precaution," she said simply and it was Lance's turn to color. Ah. The Altean version of the morning after pill, apparently. She crossed the room to Pidge's side once it was dissolved and called the girl's name quietly.

Tired honey eyes blinked open, glancing between Lance and Allura. Lance was at least glad she didn't pull away as Allura held out the cup, clearly already briefed on what it was. Allura assisted Pidge to a recline and tipped the glass, wincing mutually with Pidge's expression, but even that was dulled from what Lance would have expected from the smell.

"The pod is all set, Number Five," Coran made his announcement quietly and from nearly the other side of the room, but Pidge still flinched at the lower tone. His moustache seemed to droop at the reaction, although based upon the dulled pain his own eyes this had already happened at least once.

"It'll be just a couple varga," Allura murmured. "May I pick you up, Pidge?"

Another wordless nod. Lance tried to remember how many words Pidge had spoken since he'd found her. He was pretty sure they fit on one hand.

"I shall be right here when you come out," Allura assured as she helped settle Pidge into the pod. Lance spotted new tears but a quiet whisper of "thanks." He thought that was the end of it but Pidge looked up, past Allura, and caught his eyes, a question to them although her lips remained a wavering line.

He stepped forward, carefully, cautiously, to come next to Allura. "Do you want me to be there too?" he asked, hoping he was interpreting it correctly. Another nod and he felt a burst of warmth in his chest, even as she cast her eyes down. 'It's a date' was on the tip of his tongue but he stumbled past it, going with, "I'll be there," and that was the right thing as she nodded again.

Allura closed the door then and a moment later frost covered up the interior.

"We have about two varga," Allura announced. "Come."

She strode from the room and Coran and Lance fell into step behind her. Lance knew Allura would be addressing it — she  _had_ to, as private a matter as it was — but he couldn't wait.

"Is she gonna be okay?"

They all knew what he meant.

"The pod will heal her," Allura said after a pause. "There was… damage inside." Her voice trembled.

Lance didn't ask anymore.

Hunk and Shiro were in their casual clothes and gave Lance a double look as he came in still in his armor, sans his undershirt. The cold metal was starting to chafe a bit and he went about pulling it off as Allura spoke for something else to concentrate on.

Her words were clinical but her tone was not; a combination of scared and worried and concerned and anger all rolled into one. Pidge had been sexually assaulted, she relayed. Shiro had crushed the chair he'd been holding onto and Hunk had collapsed onto the kitchen floor. The damage inside due to the Galran's size was… extensive, but the pods should take care of it, Allura continued. They knew from Keith's existence that Galra and human biology was compatible but Allura said she believed there should be no complications on that end due to already taken measures.

She had already reached out to the rebel faction, but Matt was deep in a mission and no communications would reach him for two more quintants. Olia had been alerted to have him contact the castle immediately, citing a family emergency.

Lance had quietly chimed in that the Galran who had done it was dead, but he knew that that still wasn't enough. That monster hadn't deserved such a quick end.

Allura cautioned that from what she had seen right now Pidge had an aversion to close contact and she should be given space. It applied especially to Hunk and Shiro, and she cast them apologetic looks. Their size was similar to that of the Galran and given Pidge's reaction to even Coran she did not want to push anymore than necessary.

"I do not know how to best handle this," she admitted quietly, hands clasped above her chest. "I cannot… I do not…"

"We'll get through it as we always do," Shiro interrupted kindly. "As a team. Whatever Pidge needs."

But Lance, as he glanced around the room at the sober and still horrified expressions, had a sinking feeling it would not be so easy.

xxx

Lance hated that he had been right.

Pidge had emerged from the pod yesterday evening, tipping into Allura's waiting arms. She had been exhausted, her eyes barely holding themselves open, and for the moment had seemed unaware of all that had happened. Allura and Lance had exchanged a glance over her head and made a mutual, silent decision to keep it that way for now. Pidge was going to need all the rest she could get, even as the pod reported her body had fully healed and there were no physical reminders of what had occurred.

It felt both right and wrong. Lance was grateful Pidge wasn't in pain, didn't have to see scratch marks or her swollen lips in a mirror. But it was as though it never happened, save for the horror and memories that had no doubt imprinted themselves on her brain.

Allura had managed to get Pidge to drink some water mixed with a mild sleep aid and had then bundled her off to Pidge's quarters where Lance had waited outside while she finagled Pidge into pajamas and set the lights to glow in the corners of the room so when Pidge awoke it would not be to darkness. Allura had said Alteans did not require as much sleep as humans and she would check in on Pidge throughout the night to make sure she was sleeping soundly for at least one more evening. Come morning it was going to be very different.

Which was why Lance was not surprised when Allura invited herself into his room early the next day, barely waiting for him to answer the knock, but was surprised that the princess looked so… ill at ease.

"Pidge left her room," she reported without preamble.

Lance raised an eyebrow. In his opinion that was a good thing. Pidge wasn't a wallow-er, she was a do-er, and even though the circumstances were all kinds of messed up he was glad she wasn't curled up in bed and refusing to move.

"She informed me she was 'fine,'" and Allura put the word in quotes like Lance and Pidge had taught her and Coran, saying it was a vital Earth custom to show skepticism, "and refused to speak with me any further. I believe she was headed for the Green Lion's hangar but she told me not to follow and so I did not." She hung her head. "I do not know what to do, Lance. I do not wish to intrude if she wishes for space, but I do not believe she should be alone with her thoughts right now either."

Lance gave a slow nod. He didn't want Pidge alone with those kind of thoughts and memories either, but if it had been him… he shivered. He didn't know. He didn't want to think about something like that. But he knew when he was feeling hurt and he didn't want to come across as a bother – even though Hunk had assured him  _so_ many times that he never was – he'd curl up in his quilts and preferred to be left alone while he sorted himself out once more. Pidge he would bet was the same, even more so as before she had opened up to them her "friends" had been her tech and she found peace in the solace. She was a private person too in general and they needed to remember that.

"Let's give her some time," he said quietly. "We'll see if she comes out on her own. The last thing we'd want to do is make her feel cornered."

"You are right," Allura sighed.

Lance put a hand on Allura's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She turned around and pulled him instead into a tight hug that after being stunned at the gesture Lance returned.

"We'll get through this," he said into her hair, hating how his voice was going into that high octave again with tears. "We all will."

"We will," she agreed. "Thank you, Lance."

He blinked. "For what?"

She pulled back from the embrace and gave him a tender smile that made his cheeks turn pink. "For being you." She placed a light kiss on said dark cheek and stepped back. "I regretfully must attend to some Coalition matters. I know it is much to ask, but—"

"You don't need to ask, Allura. I'll keep you updated."

She gave a regal incline of her head and exited his room, heading for the bridge. Lance finished pulling on his jacket and then proceeded to the kitchen. Hunk was there, several pans of space equivalent peanut butter cookies cooling on the counter and more in the oven.

He was also crying.

"Hey, hey," Lance scurried around the counter and wrapped himself about Hunk's side in a hug around Hunk's stirring of a large bowl of batter.

Hunk dropped the spoon with a low sob and flung his own arms about Lance.

"What happened?" Lance asked quietly, rubbing Hunk's back.

"P-Pidge," he sniffled. "She… she came in here and…" A low sob. "She was  _scared_ of me, Lance. I don't think she thought anyone would be here and I didn't do anything, I swear, I just offered to get her a cup of tea and when I moved towards the cabinet she just…" His ramble trailed off but Lance had a good idea.

"It's okay,  _hermano,"_ he comforted.

"It's  _not,"_ Hunk wailed and Lance felt his ribs being compressed and wheezed silently. "And she took off before I could apologize and I don't know what to do." His cries quieted. "I don't know what to do. Pidge, she… I can't believe that she was…" A sniffle. "It's not fair."

"I know. I know." There wasn't much else to say on it and they remained in the embrace until the oven dinged and Hunk reluctantly pulled away to get his next batch.

Lance sat quietly in the kitchen, just a calming presence on Hunk, as he munched on cookies for breakfast and Hunk started on another item – a pasta bake that he thought Pidge would like – for dinner. On a whim he pulled out his phone that Pidge and Hunk had configured for space and pulled up his message history with Pidge. The last message had been a ";)" emote after Pidge's super long explanation to Lance's previous innocent inquiry as to why space was black in color. He loved sending her random questions like before going to bed that and she never failed to answer by the next morning in a mixture of ranting and actual logic.

 _Good morning_ he typed at her and sent it with a little chime. A minute later he saw the read receipt.

No response.

He waited about half an hour until Hunk's next batch was done and sent  _Hunk made pb cookies. A lot of them._ He snapped a photo of the counter with the cooling racks and sent it as well. No invite, no offer to bring them. Just a fact that they were there.

He sent several more messages over the course of the morning. Nothing serious to them; observations of the dishes stack Hunk was toiling over now, how he'd found his missing slipper (Platt had squirreled – miced? – it away), a made up weather report for their sector of space.

He felt calmed each time he saw the read receipt for each one, but Pidge never responded. Just before lunch hour he sent his first actual real question.  _Can I come to the hangar?_

It took an agonizingly long six dobashes but there was the quietest buzz of his phone with her response.  _Yes._

Lance grabbed a plate of cookies, a glass of fresh milk (thank you, Kaltenecker), accepted a last hug from Hunk and made his way down.

He really didn't know what he was doing either, honestly. But he did feel he had to do  _something._ Pidge could not, should not, be suffering through this alone, even if that's what she felt like she wanted to do right now. Even if he couldn't fix it he wanted to make sure she knew they were there for her. That they loved her and wanted her to feel better.

He prayed he didn't screw this up. Instinct was more of a Keith thing but emotions were his. And he was the Red Paladin now so that came with a certain degree of recklessness, of going at it without a real plan and seeing where the chips fell.

Green's hangar door was open and Lance gave a gentle knock to the frame before stepping in. Pidge, sitting at her work table, jerked her head up, honey eyes blown wide before they somewhat calmed a moment later.

Eyes that he could see so well because she wasn't wearing her glasses. She had been when she'd gone to the meeting, but they hadn't been with her in the cell. His hands tightened on the food tray. Just another thing the Galra had taken from her.

It wasn't just the missing glasses; her entire appearance had changed. She was wearing one of the hooded sweatshirts they'd gotten on their last trip to the space mall, hers in green and white and hanging large on her but she claimed she liked them big. Her shorts had been replaced with full length sweat pants and her feet were hidden inside large socks. She was normally bent over her work station – Lance told her she was going to develop an actual hunchback like that – but this time it was not so much a bend as a curl, shoulders narrowed in and the look of someone debating flight.

"Hi," Lance greeted. "H—"

"I'm fine," she cut him off, voice hard.

"Wasn't going to ask that, but glad to hear it," Lance moved more into the room. Of course he didn't believe her, but he wasn't here to push. "I was saying, Hunk baked. A lot. Thought you might be hungry."

He slid the tray of cookies and milk onto the work table, careful of the mess of projects lying about in pieces.

Pidge glanced at him warily, confused, and then the cookie tray before a small hand slipped out from where she had clutched it against her chest and picked up a cookie with a quiet thanks.

"What're you working on?"

The confused gaze met his again. "You're not here to talk? To ask me about how I am?" Her tone was a mixture of harsh and broken, as though she didn't know the answer to those questions but she desperately wished she did.

"Do you want me to?" he asked gently.

"I'm  _fine,"_ came her automatic response and the cookie snapped into pieces in her hand.

Lance said nothing.

Patience, he could almost hear Shiro saying in his head. Let her talk and he would listen. She needed this.

"I'm fine," she repeated, as though trying to convince them both. "I am. Nothing's wrong. I'm okay. I…" Her hands were trembling and she tucked them beneath her arms in the most pathetic looking hug Lance had ever seen. "I'm fine. It's over. I'm fine. See?" She made to move one of her hands but it awkwardly came back to her, sleeve fully covering her. "Not a mark. So nothing happened. I'm  _fine."_

She trembled then, abruptly sitting on the floor as though her legs had gone out from beneath her. Lance tentatively made his way around the table.

She looked up at him and there were the beginnings of tears highlighting her eyes. "It's over. I'm fine."

"Can I sit with you?" Lance asked instead of responding to her claims.

"…what?"

"Beside you," Lance said, gesturing at the ground next to her. She gave a mute nod and Lance sank down so that if she wanted she could lean over and put her head on his shoulder but there was still space enough between them. Lance kept his gaze forward, staring at the table in front of both of them. He knew he preferred eye contact but Pidge had actively been avoiding his gaze since he came in and he had a feeling it would be easier for her to talk without that direct method.

They were quiet then, only the low hum of the generators filling the space, and Pidge's occasional sniffle.

"I'm not fine," Lance said after a few moments. He could feel her gaze shift to him then although he kept his still facing forward.

"…what?" and this time the word sounded more like a breath, a sob.

Lance carefully continued. "I'm not fine. I feel sick, like my insides are all twisted up. I'm angry. I'm horrified. I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I want to cry and scream and punch something. I want to curl up in my room with my quilts and pretend things didn't happen. I want to hide away. I want a hug. I don't want one. I want my mamá. My family. I feel confused and hate that I feel that way. I'm not fine, Pidge. Not at all."

He turned his head, catching her dark honey gaze. "And… and it's okay to not be. It's okay to be scared, even of things that don't make all that much sense. It's okay to not know how you're feeling or what exactly it is you want."

Tears were silently spilling down her cheeks now.

"…I'm not fine," she whispered. "I'm n-not. L-Lance, I…"

She closed the space between them with a sob, her hands moving to tangle in his shirt and Lance tentatively brought an arm about her shaking shoulders with a quiet, "is this all right?" and she nodded against him.

"I've got you," he murmured, tugging her in close and rubbing his thumb in circles about her upper arm. "I've got you."

She relaxed in his embrace, burrowing her face against his chest and he could feel her tears dampening his shirt. He only hugged her tighter and she let out a soft sob, clinging tighter in turn to him; her anchor in this storm.

Things were not fine right now. They were far from it.

There were going to be changes, a lot of them. There would be hurt feelings across the team; guilt and despair and blame and what ifs and  _why._ It was going to take a time for things to get better, for life to move on as normal.

So things were not fine right now.

But Lance knew with all his heart that they would be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Commisisioned fic (6k-7k; hahahaha, _why do I do this to myself?_ ) for a commissioner who wishes to remain anonymous. Prompt was a Pidge rape recovery fic with Lance as the primary caregiver and the fic to be from his perspective. That last bit was an interesting turn to show events from but I really like how it came together and to be on this side of the table, so to speak.
> 
> I'm very pleased with how this turned out and hope my commissioner is too. Any type of fic that deals with a trauma like rape is always difficult to write in some ways because I know how sensitive the subject matter is and everyone is going to react differently. I debated a lot of ways of how Pidge would act after a trauma like this and I feel that this was a good mix of those complicated feelings. I do hope you enjoyed – and I use that word to describe not the actions of this piece but the story as a whole – the fic and I would appreciate hearing from you in the comments below. Again, given the nature of the fic please be considerate when commenting as they are public.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I look forward to hearing from you!


End file.
